Collected by Mary C. Parler
Mrs. Anna M. Pearcy Greenwood, Ark. October 18, 1958
Reel 313, Item 9
The Burning of the Brooklyn Theater
The lights they were lit up at seven And the curtains were rolled up at eight And happy were those seated And angry were those who were late.
The play went on very smoothly Till a spark from the chimney did fly 'Twas then that men, women and children Oh! God save our lives, they did cry.
Hark, don't you hear that cry fire?
Oh! those bells how they sound!
The great Brooklyn theater is burning She's fast burning it down to the ground.
I never shall forget those two orphans Hard luck seemed to lie in their way It seemed they were sent to our city The lives of our dear ones to take.
Next morning they visited the ruins 0 God, what a sight met our eyes.
The wounded, the dead, and the dying And some we could not recognize.
And some were weeping and wailing Over those who had gone out that night.
Oh! God may their souls rest in heaven The innocent, the pure, and the bright.
What's the means of this long line of hearses All out on this cold winter day?
What the means of this long line of people All decked in their funeral array?
It's down to the cemetery at Greenwood It's there where the tall willows sigh It's there where the hearses are going Where the dead and the unknown shall lie.
And it's oh! What a weeping when the lost souls Were told of their fate.
They cried to rocks in the mountains
They prayed but their prayers were too late.
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